Studs
by firstfic
Summary: Kirk invites Nurse Chapel, Spock and Uhura to his uncle’s horse farm for shore leave. Spock learns to ride, and carries over a few lessons to Uhura’s benefit. Chp. 2 up!
1. Chapter 1

**Warnings: **language, suggested sexual situations  
**Summary:** Kirk invites Nurse Chapel, Spock and Uhura to his uncle's horse farm for shore leave. Spock learns to ride, but "Bones" has a little fun at his expense ;)  
**A/N: **Muchos gracias to **doctorjessi****and****wyntreaurora** for Beta-ing my second piece of fiction ever.  
**Disclaimer: **If I owned "Star Trek", would I be procrastinating from studying right now? No -- I'd be making movies and testing out the casting couch. Unfortunately, I don't see Paramount hiring me anytime soon.

**Studs**** (Pt. 1???)  
**

"You know I love being among the stars, but sometimes, I just really miss home."

"The United States of Africa? Lions, and tigers, and bears, oh my?" Christine Chapel teased.

Nyota chuckled, "No bears or tigers, just lions. Although my tabby cat did like to play "tiger" when we let her out of the house. You have any pets growing up?"

"The only pet I ever had was a horse," Christine responded. "I had one when I was a teen. In junior high, I spent almost every weekend at some jumping competition. But Star broke her leg in a pasture accident, and we had to put her down. After that, I just couldn't get attached to another animal. Sometimes, I really miss riding though. It's like…borrowing freedom."

"I know what that's like." Three heads swiveled inquisitively toward Kirk. The Captain said, "I used to work on my Uncle Frank's ranch back in Iowa. I'd shovel shit and mend fences all day long for that alcoholic bastard. The only fun I had back then was, after everyone else went to bed, I'd "steal" a horse and go out for a good gallop in the dark."

Kirk paused, his mind whirring, plotting his next seduction as usual. "You know, we've got shore leave at the end of the month. Why don't we spend the week at Frank's ranch, and you can try riding again?" He realized suddenly that he didn't want his campaign on Nurse Chapel to be _too_ obvious. Quickly covering himself, Kirk looked at Spock and Nyota over the mess hall table. "You two should definitely come. Spock, you haven't had much exposure to rural life on Terra since you spent most of your time there at Starfleet Academy. It would be educational for you. And Uhura, I know you haven't had much personal time to work on the latest Xeno-linguistics article you want to publish, what with all the work you've had to do on the Enterprise. The ranch would be the perfect setting for some peace and quiet to finish that thing."

Kirk looked around at everyone again. "So…what do you all say?"

* * *

Captain James Tiberius Kirk stood at parade rest in front of his personal Intergalactic Communicator Screen. It had been a while since he'd spoken with his Uncle, much less asked for a personal favor. Even after all these years, having practically saved the universe—or at least all the Federation planets—and becoming a Starfleet Captain with his own ship in record time, Kirk still felt like the unwanted teenager when it came to his Uncle Frank.

"What do you want _this_ time?" Apparently, Frank's social demeanor hadn't changed all that much since Kirk had run away from home.

"Hello, Uncle Frank," Kirk said tightly. He disciplined himself to remain polite—his mother, Winona, had demanded that from both his Uncle and himself the last time they had all been together. "I was wondering if you might allow me to bring a couple friends back to the ranch at the end of the month. We've got shore leave coming up, and you know, I've been missing the ranch a lot, and I haven't been there in a long time, and I thought my friends would…."

"_Friends_, eh?" Frank cut off Kirk's rambling. "I'm sure I know what kind of 'friends', you're talking about." Frank stabbed the air with one finger, as if he could reach through their respective screens three galaxies apart and poke Kirk in the chest. Kirk still reflexively flinched, the action and reaction having been ingrained in him since childhood. He couldn't help but be embarrassed by this weakness--his First Officer would have told him that it was completely illogical since his uncle could hardly physically reach him. Frank leered and continued, "I guess you learned _some_ things from your old Uncle Frank. I'll bet you get all sorts of alien pussy now that you're a big-shot Starfleet Captain."

Kirk wisely stopped himself from rolling his eyes or issuing a snappy comeback.

Frank chuckled, "Tell you what…I could use a little vacation time myself. You can bring your "friends" back to the ranch, but you'll have to run the place yourself. Not that there's much to do here, since I've sold off most of the livestock. Getting too old to run a ranch on my own, much less watch my nephew run around chasing tail."

Before Frank could start up a rant about young people and the loss of appreciation over the farming way of life on Terra, Kirk held up his hand and nodded. "That is an acceptable quid pro quo, Uncle Frank." _Cripes,_ _Spock's speech was starting to rub off on him._ "I'll let you know the exact dates soon. Kirk out."

* * *

Kirk introduced Spock to a white stallion. "…and this is the pride of Uncle Frank's ranch, Nebula. He was a damn good racehorse as a 2 and 3 year old, and he's been a top-producing stud ever since. Some of his babies have even been exported off-planet to race." Kirk caught Christine's eye and smirked, "I wish someone would retire _me _to a career in breeding after only working a couple of years." Kirk turned back to address Spock as Christine giggled. "He's the only horse here that's big enough for you to ride without your legs digging into the ground like a kickstand. We call him "Bones'."

Christine laughed while Spock raised an eyebrow. "'Bones'?! Your Uncle named him after my boss?"

Kirk snickered, "No, he nicknamed him Bones when he was just born. He said this big fella here looked just like a bag of bones when he was foaled, between being stick thin and his coloring. Come to think of it though, he is a lot like McCoy. Cranky son of a bitch, and he's got a mean sense of humor sometimes. I taught myself how to ride on him, in secret of course, cuz Uncle Frank said no way in hell I'd be allowed to ride his prize stallion. Bones used to buck me off randomly, and I swear this damn horse would just look down at me on the ground and laugh at me before running off."

Kirk laughed when he saw Spock almost imperceptibly narrow his eyes at him, trying to determine if this was another one of Kirk's attempts to pull a trick at his expense. Kirk shook his head, saying, "Don't worry, Spock. He doesn't do that anymore. When Bones started to pull the same trick on my Uncle, Frank figured it out right away. Both Bones here and I got our hides tanned _real_ quick. Bones still doesn't like people all that much, but he knows better than to do anything that'll hurt you. Guess he and McCoy take after each other that way too. C'mon, let's get these horses saddled up and we'll go for a spin."

While Christine started grooming the horses in the paddock, Kirk went into the barn and brought out three saddles. He stacked English saddles for himself and Christine on one arm and on the other, he carried a Western saddle which would give Spock more security for his first time on a horse. As an Iowa farm boy, Kirk would never admit that he preferred riding English style—which would've been seen back home as "sissy" by the other boys—but he enjoyed the closeness the saddle allowed him to feel with the horse. "Plus," he justified to himself while mentally waggling his eyebrows suggestively, "that's the kind of riding Christine prefers, and if she sees how I can ride in _this_ saddle, maybe she'll let me ride in _hers_."

The three set out to ride. Kirk was on his own horse, a flashy paint gelding, while Christine was mounted on a dainty bay Arabian mare. After about ten minutes of walking, Spock was already relaxing in the saddle. The steady _1-2-3-4 _rhythm of the horse's gait was almost drawing him into a meditative state. Soon though, Bones began pulling at the reins, eager to get moving faster.

Kirk saw Bones tossing his head impatiently. "Looks like Bones is getting a little antsy there, Spock. He'll be a bit easier to handle if he can burn some excess energy off. You want to try a trot? It's faster, but Bones is a really smooth ride, so you can pretty much just sit like you were doing at the walk." Taking Spock's silence as assent, Kirk nudged his gelding into a trot and the other horses followed to pick up speed. Like the linguistics expert he was, Spock immediately picked up the rhythm of the trot like a new speech pattern. The diagonal pairs of the horse's legs struck_ 1-2, 1-2, 1-2_.

Kirk glanced back at Spock to make sure that he was okay, then grinned and flashed him a thumbs up. Christine rode up beside him. She smiled happily, "This is fantastic! It's so great to be riding again. Thank you!" Kirk tipped his cowboy hat and drawled, "Well, little lady, that big smile is thanks enough." They both laughed at the cheesiness of his John Wayne imitation.

As the two riders in front chatted, Bones snorted, indignant at being behind the other two horses. The stallion's bred-in instinct to race kicked in and he moved smoothly into a canter to pass the other horses. Bones' hooves now beat out: _1-2-3, 1-2-3. _"Fascinating," Spock thought. The horse's tempo was just like the waltz that Nyota had taught him for formal Starfleet balls. Spock swayed easily in the saddle as he enjoyed this new gait.

Kirk's eyes widened as Bones pulled in front and moved even faster into a full-out gallop. He nearly yelled at Spock to pull back on the reins and slow down, but something stopped him. "Damn it, the Vulcan can _ride_," he said to Christine. "Trust the superstar alien to pick up everything easily," Christine replied while rolling her eyes affectionately. But Spock was oblivious to his companion's comments. For the first time in his life, his super-sensitive ears heard nothing but the wind rustling by and the _1-2-3-4 _cadence of Bones' hooves. "This is," Spock's human instinct whispered, "_exhilarating_…."

Uhura looked up from her desk and out the attic window when she heard whooping and hollering over hoofbeats. _Of course_ Captain Kirk and his "white knight complex" would ride in on a white stallion. She did a double take—No! Kirk was the one making a ruckus, waving his hat and whooping like an Indian while riding a black-and-white spotted horse. Next to Kirk, Christine rode, blonde hair flowing out behind her. Uhura looked closer at the rider in front as the motley crew drew closer to the house. She realized with a start that the face shadowed by the cowboy hat was Spock's, _her_ Spock. Uhura's jaw practically dropped to the ground…and was that a _grin_ on his face? Her mouth went dry as she watched Spock gallop by the front of the house. He looked delicious on horseback--his lean frame tall in the saddle, hips moving in tandem with the stallion's long, smooth strides. Uhura stared until the six creatures disappeared into the woods. She dropped back into her chair, breathless. She would NEVER look at a cowboy hat the same way ever again.

* * *

After the ride, a tired Starfleet trio returned to the front paddock to unsaddle the horses. Christine showed Spock how to brush the horses off, first with a hard body brush and then with a softer one to polish their coats. Here," Christine said, dropping some carrots and sugar cubes into Spock's hands. He looked down at his hands with a quizzical look, as if trying to figure out how food could be a tool in the grooming process. Christine giggled, "No, silly. Treats for your horse. See, you lay your hands flat like this, so they won't accidentally bite down on your fingers." Christine demonstrated as her mare daintily took the treats one by one from Christine's hands.

Spock dubiously held his hand out to Bones, duplicating Christine's actions. Bones sniffed cautiously at Spock's hand and then inhaled the entire mass of treats like an antique Hoover vacuum. As Spock blinked at the speed and method of the equine trash compactor, Bones proceeded to take Spock's entire hand into his mouth. Christine squeaked, her fingertips flying up to her mouth in an attempt to squelch the sound as she looked on, horrified that the stallion might bite off Spock's hand.

"Bones, you bastard, let him go!" Kirk thunked his fist down on the stallion's head, right between the ears. Bones quickly spat Spock's hand out and pinned his ears back at Kirk with an expression that said, "I wasn't going to _eat_ him. I just wanted to _scare_ him a little." Kirk could've sworn the stallion rolled his eyes at him.

Spock looked at his hand, still poised where Bones had abruptly ejected his limb. It dripped with Bones' sugary-saliva and bits of carrot. "Captain," he queried flatly, "to your knowledge, is this behavior typical of this animal?" Kirk's face flushed, "Uh yeah, I guess I forgot to warn you and Christine about feeding him treats." He rushed out of the paddock, saying over his shoulder, "Lemme get you a handkerchief."

Spock looked disgustedly at his hand, gave the Vulcan equivalent of a shrug, and wiped his hand on the jeans he had borrowed from Kirk's uncle—they would have to get washed anyway. Spock was walking toward the paddock gate when he felt a hot breath on his neck. One eyebrow shot up as he realized that Bones was following closely behind him as if he was going to invite himself to the house for dinner. Spock took five strides toward the gate. Bones took five smaller strides toward the gate. Spock stopped, looked back at the horse, and then took two steps toward the gate. Bones took two steps toward the gate. Christine laughed, "Looks like you made a new best friend there, Spock. Won't Nyota be jealous?"

Spock replied dryly, "The idea is preposterous. Nyota should know that my affections only run toward humanoid forms." Christine laughed harder when Bones shoved his head into Spock's shoulder from behind, as if the horse was protesting the fact that his affections were not returned.

Suddenly, Bones sprinted in front of Spock then whirled around to face him, effectively blocking Spock from the gate. Christine called out, not too helpfully as she peered over the paddock fence, "Do you have any treats left? Are you holding back on poor Bones-ey, Spock?"

Spock answered, "Negative." He tilted his head at the horse and then spread out his hands, palms facing the stallion. "You see--I have no carrots or saccharine cubes left on my person. This behavior is utterly unnecessary and illogical." Christine chortled, "He's a _horse, _Spock. Dumb animals don't act logically!" She jumped back as Bones' hind feet connected with the fence on the opposite side of where she had just been leaning. "Never mind," she muttered, chastised.

Kirk called out, "What's going on here?" Christine smirked, "Bones is having separation anxiety from his new boy toy and won't let him out." Kirk climbed on top of the fence and straddled it, looking over the horse's back. "You--hoooo," Kirk trilled mockingly in high falsetto at Spock while waving a white handkerchief. "My my my...Bones doesn't like _most_ people, but he's sure taken a shine to _you_. Does Mr. Tall-Dark-and-Vulcan need rescuing from the big, bad horse?" Kirk and Christine nearly collapsed with laughter.

Raucous laughter from outside brought Uhura to her feet. She gasped as she looked out the window and saw the massive white horse rearing and stomping between Spock and the gate. She could hear Spock calmly telling the animal that it was not logical to stop him from leaving now that all the edibles were gone. He waved both arms ineffectually, as if trying to shoo the horse away. When Uhura saw the horse bare its teeth at Spock, she rushed down the stairs.

"Your man," Kirk said between gasps for air as Uhura approached him, "has picked up--a new admirer--who doesn't want--to let him go."

"Why aren't you helping him?" Uhura yelled at Kirk. Kirk was practically doubled over the fence now with belly-laughter. "If Spock doesn't do what he wants, whatever that is, he'll be screaming his fool head off all night and _none_ of us will get any sleep. Just watch and see what Bones does," Kirk said, patting Uhura's shoulder.

Uhura looked over at Christine, as if needing confirmation--"The horse's name is '_Bones_'??" Christine nodded her head vigorously, wheezing too badly with laughter to answer Uhura verbally. The nurse put her arm around Spock's girlfriend as they turned to watch what Bones would do next.

Spock's brows knitted together in one high peak, an expression that—had he been fully human—would be equivalent to putting his hands on hips in frustration. The horse was too fast for him to dodge around and climb out the paddock fence. He briefly contemplated performing a Vulcan neck pinch on the animal, but quickly rejected the idea. For one, he didn't know enough about equine anatomy to know exactly where to pinch on such a large creature or if it might have any effect at all. Second, he deduced that any incapacity, temporary though it might be, of Frank's prized animal would not convey good will in exchange for the Uncle's hospitality.

Finally, Bones stopped his wild motions and walked slowly towards Spock. Three humans outside of the paddock held their breath. Bones extended his neck, nuzzled Spock's chest, and then shoved his muzzle into Spock's armpit, breathing Vulcan essence in deeply.

"Awwww…," both women sighed at the adorable sight. At that sound, the horse pulled his head back to the center of Spock's chest and snorted loudly, spraying orange-tinged spittle and green snot all over Spock's black shirt in a galaxy pattern. Bones wheeled around on his hindquarters, whinnying triumphantly before bucking and running away from the house. The stallion's neighing sounded distinctly like equine laughter.

The three humans looked at Spock, who was now quite filthy. Despite his seemingly blank countenance, the three knew the perpetually-pressed-and-pristine Commander was NOT pleased. Kirk bent over with laughter and guffawed, "Didn't I tell you that stud had a _mean_ sense of humor?" The girls finally broke down in peels of laughter.

Indeed," Spock sniffed as he marched back to the house to clean up.

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

**A/N2: **As I'm new to writing fiction, I'd love to hear any suggestions on improving my writing style, and feel free to let me know if I'm not writing dialogue correctly (not always sure about the grammar rules on that). Part 2 may be written by popular demand--I'm thinking of having Spock teaching Uhura some "riding lessons" in the hayloft, but will take suggestions!


	2. Riding Lessons

**Warnings: **My first attempt at writing smut, so be forewarned!  
**A/N: **Thanks to**_Wyntreaurora_** for Beta-ing!  
**Disclaimer: **If I owned "Star Trek", would I be procrastinating from studying right now? No, I'd be making movies and testing out the casting couch. ("I'm sorry, Mr. Quinto. We'll have to rehearse that scene again. And can you put a little more, um, _emphasis_ in your gestures this time?") Unfortunately, I don't see Paramount hiring me for this purpose anytime soon.

***

Spock's eyes snapped open. 5:30AM. He should have been awake 30 minutes earlier. Normally, he did not set a wakeup alarm, relying instead on the internal clock that all Vulcans seemed to possess. Today, however, that alarm had failed.

Outside, a rooster crowed. 5:31AM. Nyota moaned in her sleep, reached for Spock, and snuggled closer against his back, one arm reaching around his waist. Spock closed his eyes, allowing himself just a moment to enjoy her warmth on a chilly morning. He listened to her breathing change as she wavered between deep sleep and the beginning of consciousness.

Outside, a rooster crowed again. 5:34AM. Spock made to get up but thought better of it when Nyota threw one sleek brown leg across his thigh. Staying in bed for any reason aside from rest or reproduction was unproductive, and thus was not a behavior that most Vulcans indulged in. Nyota had certainly changed his thinking on that though, Spock mused—at least as far as mornings when they were together, and neither was required to be on shift soon. Nyota occasionally teased him about this, "What do you think your crew would say, if they only knew their Chief Science Officer, a Vulcan at that, was a _morning snuggler_?" Those rare occasions were often the highlight of his week. He knew that Nyota felt the same way—she admitted that she loved waking up with him, that his inhibitions were down and his human side more prevalent in the early hours.

Outside, a horse whinnied and impatiently stamped its hooves. 5:37AM. Nyota moaned again, this time awake (barely), and reached for a pillow, clamping it down firmly over her head. More equine screaming echoed in the morning stillness, followed by yet another rooster crowing. Nyota screamed into her pillow then, "Shut it off!" (As if there was such a thing as a snooze button for farm animals.)

Spock sighed soundlessly then disentangled himself from Nyota. He did, in fact, have work to do since he had agreed to feed the horses this morning. He swung his feet down to the ground and moved to the closet, pulling out a pair of jeans and a button-down shirt, both borrowed from Kirk's uncle. Kirk had been horrified when he discovered that Spock had only packed Starfleet uniforms for the trip to Terra. "We're on _shore leave_, Spock," Kirk said, rolling his eyes, "…on a _ranch_." Fortunately, Uncle Frank was just about the same size as Spock. He had to admit, the rancher's clothes were rather comfortable.

Through half-lidded eyes, Nyota watched Spock dress as she lay in bed. Red shirt buttoned over taut chest. Well-worn blue jeans pulled up over lean buttocks and hips. Nyota swallowed. Hard. It was like watching a strip tease in reverse. Spock sat down to pull on weathered black cowboy boots. And last, but not least, he placed the black cowboy hat on his head. Spock looked almost fully human with the hat on since it covered the pointed tips of his ears.

"Are you sure you don't want to come back to bed, cowboy?" Nyota pulled the covers aside to expose her nudity. In the brisk two strides that Spock took toward the bed, she thought that the Vulcan might just do exactly as she suggested, especially as he lifted his hands to her. She was sorely disappointed as he merely pulled the covers back up to her chin, yet pleased by the fact that in doing so, he "unnecessarily" brushed his fingertips against her bare shoulders.

"You rest. There is no need for you to wake at this hour," Spock said just before pressing soft kisses to her temples.

"Why do you need to be up so early? I'll bet I can give you a better ride than Bones."

"Undoubtedly," Spock replied. A gleam of amusement shined through his human eyes.

***

Spock carried a carafe of hot water from the house to the barn. He mixed the hot water into a scientifically measured blend of alfalfa, molasses, beet pulp and powdered supplements—part of Bones' special diet—and then brought the steaming concoction to Bones' stall. All the horses in the barn began neighing loudly at the sight of a humanoid bringing out feed, some slamming their front hooves into their metal stall doors to accentuate their demands.

Spock poured the mixture into Bones' feed bucket and stood back to watch the stallion—Kirk had told Spock that Bones would let him know if the proportions weren't exactly to his liking. Bones eyed Spock over his stall door, one ear flicking back at the new sight of a Vulcan bringing his morning meal, and then tentatively lapped up two mouthfuls of the mixture. Bones suddenly jerked his head out of the bucket and pinned both ears back flat against his head, his lips curling at the bucket in disdain.

Spock, as outwardly indignant as a Vulcan could be, peered down at the bucket through the bars of the stall. "Illogical…there could be only a one-hundred-thousandth-percent margin of error in my measurements…." Spock's intended lecture on the irrationality of Americans' continued refusal to adopt the logically superior metric measuring system was cut short, interrupted by Bones' loud, forceful snort.

_Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me._ Spock decided this Terran maxim was entirely appropriate to the situation as he looked down at Frank's red shirt, now riddled with Bone's mucus and splatters of the horse's morning meal. Bones was now happily slurping down the rest of the molasses mixture, satisfied at once again having fooled the alien into getting close enough to despoil his clothing.

Spock pulled the shirt away from his front as bits of the wet horse feed began soaking through the cloth. He took off the shirt while he walked toward the hayloft. It had warmed up just enough for him to leave his shirt off for the few minutes it would take to throw hay down to the horses. No sense wasting time to change at the house when all the animals were loudly proclaiming their starvation….

* * *

6:08AM. Nyota glared at the clock on the wall. To her mind, there was no earthly reason why someone needed to be up before 7:30AM, and preferably not before 9:00AM on a day off work. She considered the routine 5:00AM wakeup calls at Starfleet Academy to be a nightmare rite of passage that she hoped never to repeat again. Nyota shut her eyes again and pulled the pillow tighter down around her ears.

6:10AM. Why would those animals _not. shut. up?_ The horses' neighing was incessant, the damn rooster(s?) seemed to crow about every 1.8 minutes, and now there was also a horrendous, metallic clanging sound repeatedly coming from the barn. She flung herself out of bed, hurriedly threw on a tank top and old Starfleet Academy gym shorts, and then went downstairs to go out to the barn.

* * *

Nyota was hit with deafening silence as soon as her shoes hit the walkway from the house to the barn. _Of course _the animals would stop their cacophony as soon as they got her out of bed. Seeing as she was already up, Nyota entered the barn to see if Spock could use her help. She briefly looked around for Spock, but didn't see him. Wisps of hay struck her in the face then. Nyota looked up and realized that Spock was throwing hay from the loft upstairs down through the portals into the horses' stalls. She spotted a ladder and began to climb up.

Nyota popped up through the opening to the loft, her head swiveling like an owl to find Spock. He was breaking open square bales of hay, bare hands twisting and snapping apart the twine threads that held the bales together, then separating the flakes of hay within the bale. He was also half-naked. Nyota was practically salivating at the sight of rippling pectorals and biceps bunching and releasing as he worked. She _loved_ his form—he didn't have the massive bulk of a professional bodybuilder, certainly (and thank the gods on that, Nyota thought those overblown guys looked _disgusting_), but Spock was infinitely more sculpted and defined than what she might have originally thought was under those professor tunics at the Academy. (Not that she had speculated about that much when she was his student, mind you). She was getting a little weak-kneed now. Probably not a good thing considering she was standing on a ladder almost a full floor up from ground level.

Spock turned as he heard footsteps on the loft. Seeing that it was Nyota, he was about to ask, "Are you rested?" But he didn't have a chance to speak before he got pounced on.

* * *

Spock found himself pinned up against a tall stack of hay bales. Nyota was plastered firmly to his front, kissing him passionately as she stroked his shoulders and upper arms. Her tongue pressed aggressively against his. Momentary surprise now gone, Spock eagerly reciprocated the embrace. He too, had missed the opportunity for morning lovemaking, something that almost inevitably occurred when they had days off together.

Nyota was a determined woman on a mission for what she desired. She unfastened Spock's jeans, stroking him as she pulled him out. Spock drew one of Nyota's thighs up toward his waist, his other hand reaching down into her shorts to find and cup one bare buttock. Nyota threw both arms around his shoulders, straining closer to that magnificent chest as she continued to kiss him. Impatient, Spock merely shoved the fabric between her legs to one side and then thrust himself up inside of her.

Spock lifted Nyota up and down, holding her with only his two hands and his superior Vulcan strength. Despite the fact that he was supporting Nyota's entire weight while standing upright, he still had the strength to thrust his hips emphatically against hers. "Ohhhh, that's good," Nyota moaned against his lips. She caressed the part of one ear exposed under Spock's cowboy hat. "I think all that horseback riding has improved the flexibility of your hips," Nyota said teasingly. "Do you think I might benefit from some riding lessons as well?"

One corner of Spock's mouth twitched upward into the beginning of a slow smile. "Perhaps," Spock replied. He stopped moving for several heartbeats. "I think we should start now," he said casually as he lifted her off of him.

"WHAT? NOW?" But Nyota had scant time to fume over his response to her quip when, instead of leading the way downstairs to the horses, Spock turned her around and bent her over a lower stack of hay bales. Cowboy boots shoved her feet apart, and then Spock was inside her once again.

"Preliminary lesson," Spock stated in a low voice against her ear. "You should learn the gaits of a horse, how the horse moves so you can stay in sync with the animal. I shall demonstrate the rhythms to you." He pinned her hips against the hay bale with his hands. "The trot is two even beats, 1-2, 1-2..." He gave her long, even strokes, withdrawing almost completely before thrusting back in rapidly. "Count the beats, Nyota."

Nyota's hands clenched into the hay, her teeth clenched into her bottom lip. She was dying to move against him, but the hands on her hips prevented her from doing so. Spock paused his strokes and pulled out. "I said count them, Nyota," he repeated the order. She whimpered and strained to move back, to draw him back inside her. He graciously complied and entered her again, resuming his measured thrusts. "One…two…," she choked out.

"Excellent," Spock hissed into her ear after several measures. "Now, the canter. Three beats." He dipped one hand into the front of her shorts, cupping her between her thighs. "Like the waltz. You taught me that. But faster." Leaning his weight more heavily against her, he ground his hips against her in a cyclical rhythm, mimicking the swinging motion of the canter.

"Count them," Spock commanded again. "One, two-three; One, two-three…," Nyota panted. Spock's middle finger rubbed her clitoris in time to her count, strumming her like a Vulcan lyre. Nyota saw stars as she suddenly exploded around him. Spock bit down between her neck and shoulder, preventing himself from crying out as he released into her.

The two of them lay draped over the hay bales for several minutes while they caught their breath. Finally, Spock withdrew, sat down in the loose hay, and pulled Nyota down to sit cross-wise in his lap. She rested her head on his shoulder as she studied his face for a moment. Reaching up, she flicked the cowboy hat off his head and threw it down next to him.

"I thought you enjoyed the hat?" Spock asked, raising one eyebrow at her. She smiled at him impishly. "I do, but I love your Vulcan ears even more."


End file.
